I finally pause, hands on my hips, realizing they’re all looking at me. Heat crawls up my neck, but there's pride there too. “Maybe.”
The second I admit it—just that little “maybe”—it’s like lighting a fuse.
Carson spins on his heel and claps his hands together. “Alright, operation Spoil the Omega is a go. Snacks! We need snacks.” He’s already halfway down the hall before I can tell him we have a pantry.
Hunter sets the laundry basket down and heads for the kitchen. “She’s gonna need fluids—water, juice, electrolyte drinks. I’m on it.”
Graham steps farther into the room, his warm, grounding presence filling the space. Without a word, he reaches back and grabs the hem of his T-shirt, tugging it off in one smooth motion. The sight makes my mouth go a little dry—broad chest, muscles shifting under his skin—but then he just folds it and sets it in the nest as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “This should help,” he says simply.
My cheeks warm as I smooth the shirt into place. “It does,” I admit softly.
Landon leans in the doorway, arms crossed, watching all of us with a soft, almost disbelieving smile. But then he pushes off the frame and strides toward the kitchen. “I’ll get the protein and fruit ready,” he says. “We’ll want her fed before…” he trails off, the tips of his ears pink, and I bite back a grin.
Finn hasn’t moved except to lift his camera, the faint click of the shutter catching the moment Graham’s shirt lands in the nest. “Stay right there,” he murmurs. “I want to remember this. The night our pack became official.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I say, but I don’t tell him to stop.
Because I do want to remember this. The flurry of movement, the laughter from the kitchen as Carson and Hunter start arguing about which snacks are “essential,” Graham shaking his head but tucking another blanket around the edge of my nest anyway, Landon humming under his breath as he slices strawberries. Finn catches it all—me in the middle of my little fortress, surrounded by pieces of them, my heart so full it aches.
It feels like home. It feels like love. It feels like the beginning of forever.
By the time the pack regroups, my nest is a palace.
Carson drops a bag of snacks with a flourish. Hunter brings me a glass with a straw, and I sip greedily, heart pounding. Landon kneels on my right, Finn on my left, and Graham crouches in front of me, his hand cupping my cheek.
“You ready, little omega?” he rumbles.
I nod, voice soft but certain. “Yes, let’s make it official.”
The air shifts.
Landon leans in first, lips brushing my ear. “Forever this time,” he murmurs. “I’m yours.”
I kiss him, slow and claiming, letting my pheromones pour into the room. My perfume swells, peach-sweet and decadent, wrapping around all five of them. They groan almost in unison, and heat flashes through me.
If my last heat was torture, this one is already going to be on the opposite end of the spectrum, and the slick already coating my thighs says I’m ready for every second.
Carson growls low in his chest, the sound vibrating through me as his hand glides up my thigh. “God, she smells perfect,” he mutters.
Hunter moves in behind me, his chest pressed to my back, breath hot against my ear. “Ours,” he rumbles, and the word sends a shiver straight to my core.
Finn’s hand is steadier than the rest, his thumb brushing my cheekbone as he leans in to kiss the corner of my mouth, soft and lingering. “Breathe, little fire,” he whispers, and it grounds me for a fleeting moment before Landon’s teeth graze my neck and everything sparks white-hot again.
I whimper, hips shifting in a helpless roll against the nearest body—Carson’s, I think. Hands roam over my skin, warm and possessive. Someone’s fingers trace my spine. Someone else palms my breast, sending another jolt of heat spiraling low. I can’t keep track anymore. The room is all scent and heat and the soft rustle of blankets as they guide me down into my nest.
My head tilts back on instinct, baring my throat, and Graham claims the invitation, pressing his mouth to the curve of my neck. His low groan rumbles through me, primal and raw.
“Beautiful,” he mutters, voice thick. “Perfect little omega.”
I keen softly, arching into the touch, my body answering for me when words are beyond reach. Every nerve feels awake and hungry. My thoughts are slipping like water through my fingers, replaced with need, need, need.
Carson’s lips close around my nipple, sucking gently, and I gasp, my fingers flying to his hair. Hunter’s hand slides down my belly, pausing just above where I’m slick and aching.
Finn shifts closer, murmuring soft encouragement I can barely process, his touch gliding along my hip. He’s the thread holding me together while the others unravel me with heat and instinct.
“Let go, Willow,” he coaxes, voice velvet. “We’ve got you.”
I whimper his name, then Landon’s, then maybe Graham’s—I can’t tell anymore. Their scents are all around me, inside me, spinning my head until I’m pure sensation.My body moves without thought, arching, writhing, presenting for them as if every cell knows this is where I belong.
